


Second Chance Year

by Spacefille



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows, mention of past torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacefille/pseuds/Spacefille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wants nothing more but to escape his new found infamy after his battle and victory against Voldemort. He finds himself drawn more and more to the one person who doesn't think he’s anyone special and could care less about his celebrity status in the wizarding world. Seven years of hostilities begin to warm as both boys find reluctant solace in each other’s company. </p><p>Unfortunately someone is trying to hurt the Malfoy family for their treason, and Harry finds himself caught in the crossfire...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amends

**Author's Note:**

> First posted: July 2011 at Fanfiction.net
> 
> Status: In progress
> 
> Author’s Notes: This is my take on Harry/Draco post Deathly Hallows. I know it's been done several times before but I wanted to do my own.

...

The first week was a flurry of high strung emotions, funerals and arrangements, rows, and news paper interviews that by the end of it Harry was fairly sure he had permanent black circles under his eyes from exhaustion. He had admittedly forgotten about the Malfoys completely during that time. The day after Voldemort had been killed Kingsley had told him that all surviving Death Eaters and suspected Death Eaters were being held in Azkaban for questioning and eventual sentencing, and had made a passing remark that the Malfoys had been taken in as well. Harry had felt guilty for a second, knowing what Narcissa Malfoy had done to save his life, but Kingsley had shook his head, saying that they’d talk later. Then another wave of reporters swamped him and he quickly found had other things to think about.

Frankly, he never wanted to think about the Malfoys again, to be honest, no matter how helpful they had been. He was having a hard enough time dealing with all the attention to think about anything else, really, including the fact that he was now a “father” to a child he had yet to meet.

It was only when the owl came for him that he realized that due process included courts and all such things, and, according to the letter at least, the Malfoys were awaiting trial. The letter then asked if he would come to the Ministry the next day and be a witness for the defense. 

“Oh. Right,” Harry muttered, half to himself, as he finished read the summoning. Ron had glanced over his shoulder to see what Harry was reading, and then stepped around to look at him.

“Witness?” he questioned incredulously.  “For the Malfoys? You can’t seriously…”

Harry gave him a look, stilling his rant before it could really get going. “I told you already Ron,” he replied. “If it hadn’t been for Malfoy’s mum I wouldn’t be standing here right now,” he felt like he was a record on repeat, he had told Ron that already, he was sure of it.

Ron sat back with a pout and a glare, arms folded across his chest, hatred glittering in his eyes for the multiple offenses that Draco had wrought, past, recently, and possibly future. He was still bitter about having to save Draco’s life. Twice. He had mentioned it a couple times since the battle, mostly when he had spent too much time thinking about Fred and how bloody unfair everything was. Harry really didn’t want to get into this again, especially since he had spent a great deal of the last week swaying between numb acceptance and anger himself whenever he thought about everyone he had lost.

“They don’t deserve it,” Ron pointed out, thankfully keeping it simple and to the point.

“Yeah, well,” Harry replied wearily as he folded up the letter. “That’s not up to you, Ron,” at the same time a thought ran through his head, one that he didn’t like too much. If all of Malfoy’s were in Azkaban, Draco had just spent the entire week in a cold, damp cell. He glowered and stuffed the letter in his pocket. Draco hadn’t identified him back during the Easter break… he didn’t deserve to be in there any more than his mother, who hadn’t given him away to Voldemort.

Granted, if someone had told him four months before that he’d owe his life and outcome of the war to the Malfoys he would have laughed in their face.

To be fair, if someone told him he’d be a teenage father four months ago he would have laughed in their faces about that too, based completely on the fact that he had yet to experience anything that would lead to such things.

The world worked in mysterious, somewhat frightening, and often annoying ways. 

.

The trial went better than Harry anticipated. He felt a somewhat expected sensation of rage when he first caught a glimpse of Lucius, standing next to his wife in the center of the court. The rage melted into something close to pity when he saw how tired they both looked. It had been a long week for them, he was sure. Not as long as his own, mind you, but long enough. Both held their heads high, of course they did, but Harry could see through it and he was sure others could too.

When he didn’t see was Draco and he scanned the room for him. He was a bit surprised when he spotted him. He was not where he’d expect those being tried to be seated, but rather in the stands. His face was white, and he looked like he was straining not to show any emotion. He also looked like he was about to faint. Harry wondered why Draco wasn’t on trial as well, the letter had said…

“Released already,” a member of the Ministry Harry didn’t know said as he walked by, catching where Harry was looking. The same man handed Harry a scroll. “They decided to let ‘em go because of his age. ‘Unlawful coercion of an underage wizard’,” he snorted at that. “Ridiculous, if you ask me, the kid is just as guilty as the parents.”

Harry rewarded him with a tired glare. Apparently this man had missed a notice somewhere. Goodness knows he had had to explain every detail of his escape from the Dark Lord often enough in the last week. “Thank you,” he said instead, politely, as he took the scroll from the man.

Draco wouldn’t look at him as he took to the stand to give his testimony. The only time he did look at Harry was when he told the entire court of what his mother had done to save his life and the reason why she had done it. Harry caught his startled gaze and held it for a moment. Had his mother not told him? Maybe not… or maybe she did and Draco didn’t expect Harry to defend his mother.

The rest of the proceedings went smoothly enough, especially when both of the elder Malfoys confessed under a truth serum that they felt no allegiance to the Dark Lord during the last year and would have escaped if they had a way to do so without risking their own lives and the life of their son. Harry was a bit surprised at that, he was sure Lucius had been hundred percent loyal to the Dark Lord right until the bitter end.

He also wondered why he was even there in the first place if they were going to use potions to get answers out of them. Then he remembered hearing or reading somewhere that there were counter spells and especially powerful wizards may be able to fight the effects of the potion. Hermione would know, he decided. He also decided he didn’t care enough to ask her. He would have liked very much to go home and sleep, since it had been over a week… well actually if he thought about it, it was closer to a year since he got a good night of that.

When questioning was done the wizards and witches overseeing the trial went on for a bit about what could be forgivable and whether breaking their alliance with the Dark Lord at the last minute really could make up for the rest of their transgressions. Then, after Harry had grown bored of listening he went back to studying Draco, who was very obviously avoiding looking at him at all costs, they turned to ask for his opinion.

Suddenly he had fifty plus pairs of eyes staring at him. Harry blinked at that. Oh. So that was why he was here.

He shuffled about uncomfortably, unsure of what to say and a bit angry he was even being placed in this situation in the first place. He hadn’t been asked to be at any other trial. Why just this one? He finally cleared his throat and came out with a very decisive “I don’t know.”

Well, that got Draco to glare at him. “I don’t think they can do any harm,” he amended quickly. It was true. “I don’t think they attacked anyone last week. They were looking for Malfoy. Draco.” He corrected. He shook his head quickly. “Ask… well anyone who was there. Anyone else.  I was a bit busy,” he tried not to sound too irritated and felt he had failed somewhat. He also chose kept his mouth shut about how Lucius was so eager to turn him in to the Dark Lord only months before that, when he had been captured by Greyback. He wasn’t sure why he did, beyond the fact that he knew he was right about them not doing much harm at this point. If either of them started waving around dark magic at this point they’d pretty much be guaranteeing themselves a one way ticket back to Azkaban.

Now Draco was studying him intently as the rest of the ministers went back to debating. Harry looked back at him and held his gaze, and it was Draco who looked away first.

By the end of it all Harry was fighting off sleep, and Kingsley stood to declare that the Malfoy’s were free to go under certain conditions, which included checking back with the ministry at regular intervals and so on and so forth, Harry didn’t really pay all that much attention to the rest.

The Malfoys turn to leave, barely showing emotion beyond tight smiles of relief. Harry watched them go. He hadn’t been much for detail, that was always Hermione’s job, but the last year had helped that along. There was no embracing to be had as they approached Draco… his father nodded at him once and Draco nodded back in acknowledgement. He felt another annoying flash of pity and a bit of irritation that they couldn’t at least look a little bit happy to see each other. It was only when Narcissa held out her arm and placed it around her son’s shoulders that Harry let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

.

It was good to have friends, outstanding actually, but by the end of the second week Harry was desperately in need of alone time. Or alone time with Ginny, but for some reason whenever he tried to spend more than a couple minutes with her she’d suddenly have something she really needed to go do, or someone would come and interrupt them. Usually the first one and Harry had no idea why. So he found himself tired, frustrated, and was starting to get snappish at anyone who came near him who wasn’t Ginny… who wasn’t coming near him at all. 

It was about then that he remembered that he owned a house. The next day he packed his trunk, wished the Weasleys a fond farewell, and left for the Black Manor. 

He had only been there less than a day later when an owl tapped on the glass of the library window. Harry glared at it briefly as he had been taking a well deserved nap in an oversized chair before it appeared. When the owl didn’t go away, which he didn’t really expect it to, he sighed and got up to go let it in.

It was, unexpectedly, from Hogwarts. From McGonagall. Harry groaned as he read it. The letter was warm and inviting, apologizing for the fact that the school was closed for the summer, leaving the students without a chance to finish their studies. The letter continued to ask if he wouldn’t like to return to school in the fall to finish summer term? In fact, it said, having some of the old students there again would help the new first years feel comfortable and accepted. Harry read until the end, then tossed the letter aside with a sigh. Didn’t saving the entire wizarding world from dark evil grant him a “get out of school free” card? Kind of like a congratulations, you’re an adult now that you’ve saved the world? Not to mention the fact that this’d be his eighth year of school?

No, of course not. He made a face.

Harry then wondered how the school was going to be reopened in the fall anyway, seeing as it had come close to burning to the ground completely only weeks before, and had lost Professors in battle. Snape was gone…

He surprised himself at the stab of pain that caused, then realized what he was feeling was guilt. He pushed that feeling away with irritation and got to his feet. A lot more people than Snape had died, he just felt guilty that he had hated Snape until after he died. Still hated him a bit, but that wasn’t the point.

He began to pace, wondering what his friends were going to do. That answer was easy enough, Hermione would be all over a chance to go back and finish school and Ron was going to go wherever she went. Which meant Harry would have to go to. Harry made another face and clenched his wand…

His wand.

Oh.

That made another, completely unrelated issue come to mind. He had forgotten it during the last two weeks…

 He left the library and made his way upstairs to Sirius’… or rather his room. He pulled out his trunk and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. He brought out a wad of cloth, and unwrapped to reveal two wands, the Elder wand and a hawthorn wand.

Well, he knew what to do with the Elder wand, he just hadn’t had a chance to get around to hiding it yet. As for the other wand…

Harry signed turned it over in his hands a couple times. He was tempted to keep it, it had, after all, been the wand that had killed Voldemort. Sort of. Well, it helped rebound a curse. Either way, this wand knew him, and recognized him as its master.

But then, really, Harry thought, he didn’t need another wand. His wand worked great now that he had been able to knit it back together with the Elder wand’s power. He didn’t need to keep something that he had taken by force from someone else - a someone who would probably want it back. Draco was an irritating prat, true, but even so he knew that if the other boy had taken his wand he would have liked it back. 

He sighed and got to his feet, turning Malfoy’s wand over in his hands a few more times before deciding.

.

He half expected that Malfoy wouldn’t come. He wasn’t sure he would have come either, even with the promise of getting his wand back. If he was Malfoy, he’d be spending this week, and the next and probably the next after that staying in with his parents now that his house was safe and…

Harry shuddered at that thought. No, not really safe. He remembered, though he really didn’t want to, the abuse that Voldemort had put that family through in that house. An especially bad memory of the Dark Lord backing Draco into a corner until he cowered, shaking in fear for his life made his stomach turn. He doubted any of the Malfoys would feel safe in their house for a quite a while.

Either way, he supposed it wasn’t that surprising when Malfoy did show.

The wards told Harry he was there the moment he apparated in front of the Black Manor, even though Harry had already been at the window, watching below. There was no mistaking the blond head as Draco squared his shoulders and eyed the house up and down before stepping towards it. When he reached the front door Harry realized he should be downstairs instead of upstairs and headed down to let him in.

When he opened the door all they did was stare at each other for a long moment. Then the corner of Malfoy’s mouth curved up into what may have been a smirk but ended up just looking like a grimace. “Well, Potter?” he said. “Are you going to invite me in or just stand there like an idiot?”

Harry snapped shut a jaw he hadn’t realized was open and stepped aside. “Come in,” he said coolly.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him and walked into the house. Harry shut the door behind him.

Now he stood in the front hall, studying Malfoy as he looked around with what appeared to be mild distaste. When the blond haired boy turned back around to look at Harry, Harry suddenly remembered he should probably be acting like a host and not just standing around staring. “Um, this way,” he said, half expecting Draco to not follow him as he led him to the drawing room. He did and once in the room Draco sat down on one of the ornate Victorian chairs. Now they had another staring moment, and Draco began to tap his fingers on the arm rest impatiently.

“Right,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “Tea?” he offered.

Now Draco was giving him a look like he was mad. “I’d rather just have my wand, Potter,” he replied. “If it’s not TOO much trouble.” The familiar drawling mocking tone in his voice was obvious and Harry’s reaction was nearly instantaneous.

“Hey,” he snapped, jabbing a finger in Draco’s direction. He wondered why he had even bothered trying to be nice to Malfoy. Obviously it was a mistake, he hadn’t changed one bit. “Listen,” Harry bit out from between clenched teeth. “You _owe_ me-”

Malfoy froze. Completely, shock crossing his face for a moment. His eyes narrowed into slits, inspecting Harry coldly. Harry felt his temper melt away as fast as it had come. Instead a low churning shame decided to replace it. He shouldn’t have said that… the look on Malfoy’s face said as much.

“And what would you have me do?” Malfoy asked, his voice low. Disgust warred with anger on his face, but not the type of anger he was used to, not from Malfoy at least. Harry could only stare as the other young man got to feet. “Grovel at your feet maybe? Sing you praises? Oh the great Harry Potter, thank you _so much_.” Harry nearly took a step back almost despite himself in response to the absolute loathing on his face.

“That,” he managed to get out when his mouth decided to start working again. “No!” he protested. “I don’t want anything from you _Malfoy_ ,” he regained his footing and glared back at him. 

“But I _owe_ you, remember?” Draco returned, his voice low and taunting.

“Forget it,” Harry returned. He drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He had saved Malfoy’s life and helped out his parents, so he supposed he expected some gratitude at least, not all out animosity.

“I suppose I should thank you for the scars as well, perhaps,” Malfoy added, his voice very nearly conversational now.

Harry’s jaw dropped again, growing pale as he realized what Malfoy was referring to. “I can’t believe…” he sputtered.

“That’s your problem isn’t it, Potter?” Malfoy said, his eyes now almost appraising as he looked him up and down. “You were unbearable before, and I imagine you’ll be even worse now, especially now that HE’S gone,” his lip curled at that last bit. “Harry Potter, champion of the people. Savior of the world. Everyone’s hero. THANK YOU, Potter. That’s what you want isn’t it? Praise and adoration! Fame and fortune! And what’s even worse, you’ll think you DESERVE it.”

“Shut up!” Harry snapped, his face white.

Apparently he wasn’t done yet. Malfoy’s hands balled into fists. “How many people died?” he snarled. “How many people were you unable to save? How many people SUFFERED because of YOU?”

He hit him. He didn’t mean to, he just wanted him to stop, but one moment Draco was yelling at him, and the next he was on the ground, eyes wide as he stared up and him, a hand to his face. Harry saw fear crawling in his eyes before he realized he had his wand pointed right at him.

Harry’s chest heaved as he tried to get his breathing under control. Draco continued to stare at him long enough to realize Harry wasn’t going to curse him and slowly rolled his head to the side.

“Did I hurt you, Potter?” he asked in a low taunting voice. The anger in his eyes was still there but now it was much more subdued. He shut his eyes then opened them again, looking up at him quietly and said no more.

Harry drew in another deep breath, then another, and shoved his wand back into his robes. He leaned over and thrust his hand out to help Draco up.

“Don’t touch me,” Draco said, looking irritated as he pushing his hand away. Harry shrugged and stepped back, watching as he helped himself to his feet. Draco staggered slightly then straightened as if to regain some of his pride, brushed himself off, and sat back down in the chair very deliberately.

For some reason the entire action hit Harry as funny. His snort of laughter surprised even himself.

Draco glared, then wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Glad you find attacking someone without a wand funny, Potter,” he spat, inspecting his sleeve as if to check for blood. There wasn’t any. 

“You just…” Harry coughed. “Sorry,” he added, covering his mouth. He cleared his throat when he thought he could contain himself.  Draco eyed him.

“Do you feel better?” Harry asked.

Draco made a disgusted sound. “No, Potter, I’ll feel better when I’m out of here and never have to see your disgusting face ever again,” he replied.

“The feeling is mutual, Malfoy,” Harry retorted. Draco snorted and looked away. 

Now Harry didn’t know what to say. He expected more argument. He stood there and just looked at him until Draco turned back him with a frown. “Well?” he said. “Weren’t you going to get my wand?” 

“…Right,” Harry shook his head, contemplated saying something more, then turned abruptly and headed for the stairs. That could have gone better, he thought to himself as he climbed them. Then he considered. It could have gone worse, too.

 Well, at least he hadn’t killed him. That was good. Right?

.

Malfoy looked bored when Harry got back downstairs, holding the hawthorn wand tightly in his hand.

He gave Draco a warily look before holding it out to him. The other boy merely got to his feet, took the wand from his hand and proceeded to inspect it carefully. Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t curse it,” he said.

Malfoy sniffed, gave the wand a once more looking over then flicked it a couple times to make sparks fly out of the tip (Harry’s hand went for his own wand as a precaution). However Malfoy did nothing more with it and slipped the wand into his robes. He turned and strode towards the door. 

“Wait,” Harry called out after him, almost despite himself.

Draco turned back, with his hand on the doorknob, his eyebrow raised and expression of distain back on his face. “What is it, Potter?”

Harry found himself caught. He really didn’t know why he had called out actually… well beyond the fact that he expected a thank you at very least. “Are you going back to Hogwart’s in the fall?” he asked finally feeling awkward.

Malfoy studied him. “Why do you care?” he asked suspiciously.

“I don’t,” Harry replied lamely. “Just asking. Are you?”

Draco merely looked him over once more, sneered at him, then turned and left, shutting the door firmly behind himself.  

“Fine, don’t answer,” Harry muttered.

He spent the rest of the day in a foul mood, and it was all because of Malfoy. 

…


	2. School

…

After spending a few more days sulking about the Black house, Harry decided it was time to go meet his godson.

The child, of course, was adorable, with brown eyes like his father and ever changing hair color like his mother. He ached when he saw him, an odd happy sad feeling, knowing that two of his friends were gone permanently and only this small, red faced, crying thing remained. Harry pushed his feelings aside and decided to make a go of being a father, at least until September. Because of that he learnt a great deal about dirty diapers (thankfully there was a spell for that), and how to take care of a baby (don’t drop him).

During the last two months of summer he divided his time between visiting the Weasleys and Andromeda Tonk’s house, trying his best to keep busy. Keeping busy kept his mind off of things, there were an extraordinary lot of things he found himself thinking about, and nearly none of them were pleasant. He would get into moods, considering the friends he had lost, his godson… the fact that he hadn’t been able to get a chance to talk to Ginny recently. Lucky for him, when he spent too much time in Mrs. Tonk’s immaculate sitting room gazing out the window, the older witch would let out a huff of frustration and thrust Teddy into his arms. She’d then proclaim that she was going shopping to pick up supplies and apparate away, leaving Harry alone with the baby.

Panicking over a squalling baby was more than than enough to keep Harry’s mind occupied. The first time he even had to floo Hermione over to help because he had no idea what to do.

By the time September came Harry was glad that baby Teddy had somehow survived his ministrations and attempts at childcare, proving that babies were perhaps more resilient than he had previously thought.

.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Harry muttered for not the first time since they boarded Hogwart’s Express that morning. He felt out of sorts and ill at ease, and it had been a more than trying day already. Random people he didn’t know had come up to him to give him hugs or pats him on the back, and other random people had glared at him from a distance as if he had ruined their lives. Which he probably had.

And he thought he was famous before killing Voldemort…

Hermione shot him a look from across the table. “Of course we should be here,” she said. “Stop saying that.”

Neville looked up from his plate. “I’d like to graduate so that I can become an Auror,” he offered. He looked confused for a moment. “I thought you wanted that too, Harry?”

Harry made a face and shrugged. “I. Well, maybe…” he began and Hermione kicked him from underneath the table. “Yes!” Harry said with much more enthusiasm. “That’s why I’m here.” He avoided Hermione’s glare and the way Ron stared at him like he was nuts.

He wasn’t going to win this one, no matter how he felt about being a year older than any other Hogwart’s graduate in history. Well, beyond the rest of his returning class… well okay the next seven years of graduates as well. But really, spending last year in a tent had completely taken his mind off of any sort of academia. Being back at Hogwarts brought home the fact that he felt doing something as trivial as school work didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things…

Convincing Hermione of that would be futile. She was going to stay until the bitter end and make it through the entire year, Harry had no doubt about that. And if Hermoine was doing it, he would have to as well, there was no point in even bringing it up. If he did he had no doubt she’d guilt trip him by reminding him who, exactly, had stayed by his side all winter long last year…

He sighed to himself and let his mind drift as McGonagall got up to address the students. He looked out over the great hall as she spoke. There were so many empty spaces now, and that hit him with an unexpected jolt. The Professor’s table was missing teachers. Harry let his eyes slide over where Snape would have been sitting, to continue skimming down the house tables. All of the students were subdued, even the first years.

Of course they were quiet, Harry thought to himself, it had been too soon. Three or four months wasn’t nearly enough time to forget a dead parent or sibling, some of which had died in this very room. And everyone here had lost someone, in some cases more than one. Classmates… Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw… both tables were missing people, especially among the older students, though admittedly not as much as the Gryffindor table. The abundant empty spaces at the Slytherin table were the most surprising though. Pansy was missing, so were a couple other classmates from his own year. Harry supposed it was because those parents were reluctant to send their children back to school. Since most of them came from well off wizarding families he supposed they either decided to finish their schooling with tutors or in one of the other European schools.

It did make him wonder why, exactly, Malfoy had come back to Hogwarts after all, as his gaze settled on the blond haired boy sitting at the far end of the table. He stared at him for a bit, considering.

It struck him as he watched him, how perfectly odd it seemed to see him there. Of all the people he hadn’t expected to get out of the war alive, minus himself of course, was Malfoy. He had been so deeply mired in all of this… nearly as much as Harry had been, if not more…

Almost as if sensing his gaze, Malfoy looked up, eyes locking with Harry’s. He held it for a moment, and the expression on Draco’s face seemed more curious than anything. Then, almost as if remembering himself, Draco’s lip curled and he sneered at him. Harry flushed without even knowing why and looked away quickly, then wondered at his reaction. Two years ago he would have returned Malfoy’s ugly look without a thought. He cleared his throat a bit self consciously and made an effort to concentrate on the rest of McGonagall’s speech.

He sat through the Sorting Hat too, utterly bored and wondering yet again why he was being forced to endure this. He found his eyes roaming the great hall once again. For some reason he found his gaze drawn back to Malfoy. He supposed it was to see if he’d still be sneering at him. But no, Malfoy, for his part, studiously did not look at Harry, and instead kept his gaze pinned directly on the professor’s table.

What he didn’t expect was for Professor McGonagall to stand again, and while dismissing everyone else, ask that three of the students to stay behind and meet with her.

Those students were himself, Hermione… and he half expected McGonagall to say Ron as well and briefly wondered how on earth they had managed to get in trouble *already*. But when Professor McGonagall said Draco Malfoy, Harry’s jaw dropped open with shock and he whipped his head around to stare at the other boy.

Draco had his gaze focused on McGonagall and did not look at Harry. Harry looked back at Ron and Hermione, his mouth still open. “What did we do?” he asked. “I haven’t gone anywhere near Malfoy yet, did either of you-”

“No,” Hermione rolled her eyes and got to her feet. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she added. “See you back at the tower Ron?” she asked.

Ron smiled, or at least attempted to, and gave her a hug. “Yeah,” he said. He shot a glare over at Malfoy before heading off.

*

No, this definitely wasn’t usual, Harry decided, as McGonagall asked Professor Slughorn to stay as well. Harry sat down one table over from Draco, Hermione on his other side and waited to see what this was about.

McGonagall gave them all a long look over the top of her spectacles before she steepled her fingers in front of her. “As you well know, we happen to be a bit short on staff this year. With the rest of the Ministry focused on rebuilding, they are unable to spare us any new professors and have suggested a, shall we say, unconventional solution,” She waited as Harry exchanged glances with Hermione, then continued.

“Professor Slughorn here has agreed to allow his attentions to be split between the Defense against the Dark Arts class and the Potions class. However he is unable to do both classes alone. It has been suggested,” she cleared her throat. “That two exemplary students in both fields be asked to help teach the younger students on these subjects, leaving the good Professor free to teach the older ones and prepare them for graduation.” She stopped and pinned Harry with a sharp look and then Draco in turn. “That would be you Mr. Potter, and you Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry’s mouth fell open again. He turned to look at Draco, but Draco had a fairly impassive look on his face, maybe even slightly bored. ‘He knew!’ Harry thought in his head. Of course he knew, Harry thought a moment later. It explained why Malfoy was here in the first place, if McGonagall had sent an owl asking him to come back to help at the school at the same time that Harry had gotten his…

Harry shook his head and turned back to the Headmistress. “Professor,” he began. “I don’t think I’m qualified…”

“Nonsense,” McGonagall interrupted him. “You have had more than enough practical experience with the Dark Arts to teach the younger students Mr. Potter. As do you Mr. Malfoy.” Harry shut his mouth and felt a bit of anger flare up at that, which he wisely kept to himself. He didn’t CHOOSE to do any of that. He had to out of necessity, because of the war…

“And your marks in potions were exceptional during your sixth year,” McGonagall continued. Now Harry exchanged slightly uncomfortable looks with Hermione. “As were yours Mr. Malfoy,” she added. “You are both perfect choices to assist us with the teaching of these two classes.”

“Wait,” Harry said as something occurred to him. He looked up, confused. “Which of us do you want to help teach Potions and which of us do you want to help with Dark Arts?”

Now the Professor pinned him with an assessing look. “That will be up to you and Mr. Malfoy to decide,” she replied. Harry looked at Malfoy in horror despite himself and that earned him a cold glare back. Harry nearly groaned out loud. Great. He fully remembered the last time he had to talk to Malfoy for any amount of time and how it had ended in an argument. “But… but what about our own classes?” he tried to protest.

McGonagall nodded, as if she expected the question. “It will have to be around your own class schedules of course, but we will consider this a practicum of sorts. It will count towards your final marks.”

“I’ll be here to help you create class assignments and schedule the times,” Professor Slughorn added, bobbing his head eagerly. 

“And you Miss. Granger,” McGonagall continued, turning her head towards Hermione before Harry could protest more. “I’m sure by now you’ve noticed that Ms. Charity Burbage is no longer with us,” Harry didn’t miss the small choked sound Draco made and turned his head to look at him again, his eyes narrowed. Draco didn’t look up, but inspected his hands and it struck Harry that Draco knew what, exactly, had happened to the Professor. Harry could figure it out himself… Voldemort had probably killed her. Heck, it was possible that Voldemort made Draco kill her, though he was fairly sure Malfoy didn’t have the stomach for it unless his own life was in immediate danger. He made a bit of a face and decided that he really didn’t want to know. Thinking about it or blaming Malfoy wasn’t going to bring her back. “And we are lacking a teacher to provide us Muggle studies lessons.” McGonagall continued. “We have asked Mr. Author Weasley come in on a part time basis to teach that class, but he requires an assistant. We are wondering if you would be willing to assist Mr. Weasley.”

Hermione bobbed her head. “Of course Professor,” she said with a lot more enthusiasm than Harry.

McGonagall clasped her hands together. “Good,” she replied, looking as pleased as Professor McGonagall ever got, which was not very. “You are dismissed.”

Harry was going to try to catch Draco on the way out, to ask if he had any idea how they were going to do this, but Draco had already beaten them out the door and didn’t look like he was very inclined to slow down and turn back. Harry sighed and didn’t call out to him. He’d ask Professor Slughorn tomorrow what he expected him to do instead.

.

Sure enough they met with Slughorn bright and early on their second day back to school. Slughorn was the one that decided that Malfoy was going to teach first and second year Potions and Harry was to teach the first and second year Dark Arts. He didn’t even have to talk to Draco if he didn’t want to. Draco nodded stiffly when Slughorn asked if the schedule was okay with him, his face expressionless.

When they left Slughorn's office, Harry stopped in the hallway. “Hey,” he called out.

Draco paused and turned, his face still blank as he looked at Harry. It was at that moment that Harry realized he didn’t know what he was going to say. Again. He felt he should say something but nothing came. So instead he opened his mouth and closed it again. “I… I’ll see you in class?” he offered.

Draco looked wholly unimpressed. But, instead of letting off a string of condescending insults like Harry expected, the other boy just turned and walked away.

Also again.

.

It took Harry a couple days to clue in, but Malfoy sat alone at the Slytherin table. He was at least one seat over from Goyle and none of the other Slytherin students seemed to speak to him during mealtimes. Harry wondered at that, until he caught wind of it from a grinning Ron that even the Slytherins hated Malfoy now.

When Harry looked surprised, Ron continued, leaning in towards Harry as he shared what he had heard with glee. Half of the Slytherin’s, he said, had parents that had either been killed or banished to Azkaban, but Malfoy parents had both lived and escaped Azkaban. The other half of the Slytherins were not on the Dark Lord’s side and hated Malfoy because he was a former Death Eater himself and Death Eaters had been responsible for the deaths of relatives, “blood traitors” and the like. Why Goyle, once entirely faithful, seemed to have distanced himself from Malfoy, Ron didn’t know if it was because of Crabbe’s death or because Goyle’s parents were in prison. It may have been both.

Draco didn’t seem to mind, eating by himself. In fact from a distance Draco seemed to be handling it very well, but Harry couldn’t help but to feel a bit sorry for him. He remembered what Mrytle had said during their sixth year, about how Draco was lonely. If being ignored by all of his old friends wasn’t enough to make the other boy feel alone Harry didn’t know what would.

Harry had other things to worry about though, beyond Draco. Like teaching the classes. The first and second years were rowdy and tended to not listen to him very well. He had eventually threatened to fail them all in the class and owl home to their parents, and that seemed to scare them into semi-obedience. He was lying of course, but they didn’t need to know that. He grimly set about explaining some of the easier counter spells to the children, even though he hoped very much they’d never have to worry about using any of them.

.

The days turned into a week, then two. Life started to get routine again, which is to say life was extremely busy. Between teaching classes and taking his own Harry barely got to see his friends except at meal times. To make matters worse, whenever he did see Ginny, she seemed distant, barely spoke to him, and ran off as soon as she had a chance, as she had all summer.

Despondent, he told Ron about how Ginny was acting. He got a sympathetic look from his best friend. “Ah, don’t worry about her, mate,” Ron said. “She’ll come around.”

But after those first couple weeks Harry wasn’t sure she was going to. He didn’t understand women at all, so he went to Luna to ask if she knew. Luna just gave him a sad little smile and replied that death tended to change people and not always for the better.

And when he tried to ask Hermione about it, she had replied that she was busy getting ready for her class but that she’d talk to him later and gave him that look she always did when Harry didn’t understand something and she did.

So that was great. Now Harry felt depressed, his friends were busy, and he still hadn’t escaped the attention brought to him by the fact that he had killed Voldemort, by students and even professors constantly asking him to tell the story of how he had defeated Voldemort.

That night found him looking somewhere, anywhere, for a place to hide. He considered the Room of Requirement but either it was out of commission because of the fire, or it didn’t feel he required it as much as he thought he required it. This led to him walking through the school looking for a quiet place to just sit and think and collect his thoughts without other people around.

He ended up wandering down to the dungeons without even thinking about it much. He paused when he heard someone moving around in Snape’s old Potions classroom. He quietly approached and stuck his head around the corner to peek inside.

It was Malfoy. The other boy stood at a desk, chopping up something purple and leafy with confident hands, a look of concentration on his face. Harry watched Malfoy moved to place the chopped bits into the caldron, then moved back to gather up something that looked like a bit like a carrot and started cutting up that as well. 

It struck Harry then how much like an adult Malfoy looked now. He was no longer the young boy he once was... well, either of them were. His actions and motions conveyed confidence; he knew what he was doing. The black buttoned up collar outfit made him look dignified and authoritative, and, as he moved around the Potions classroom with purpose, just a tiny bit like Snape. Granted, instead of long black greasy hair, Draco’s was short and blond, and instead of brown eyes, Draco’s were a piercing grey. 

Harry gave up hovering at the door and walked into the room. He sat down in the desk beside the one where Malfoy was working.

“I’m not helping you teach the Dark Arts class, Potter,” Malfoy said without even looking up, his words slow and drawled. “I have enough on my hands with this class.”

Harry was taken aback. “That’s not why I’m here,” he said.

That actually got a somewhat surprised look from Draco, though he looked away quickly with a frown and a disinterested sigh. “Then why _are_ you here?” he asked, in a tone of voice that said he really didn’t care to know.

 Harry shrugged.

“You’re not very decisive these days, are you, Potter?” Malfoy asked.

“Guess not,” Harry replied honestly.

Draco gave him an irritated look. “Don’t you have _friends_ , Potter?” he asked. “Somewhere else to be right now?” 

Harry shrugged again. He was quiet for a moment. “Ginny’s ignoring me. Luna is studying. Hermione and Ron are probably off having some, ah, alone time,” he made a bit of a face at that.  

“Gross,” Draco declared. “Like I really want to know what that insufferable mudblood is up to.”

“You shouldn’t use that word,” Harry said, though far less crossly than even he expected. 

Draco obviously picked up on it because he gave him a quick appraising look. “I can say whatever I want to say, Potter,” he replied dismissively.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t have like it,” Harry said quietly.

Draco turned on him quickly, his potion all but forgotten. “Dumbledore is dead you IDIOT,” he ranted, surprising Harry at the suddenness of his outburst. “In case you didn’t notice, and I really DON’T CARE what someone who died over a year ago thinks about anything I say.”

Harry stood up. “Fine, Malfoy,” he snapped. “ _I_ don’t like it.”

Draco’s face twisted. “Like I even care what you…” he stopped and glowered, looking furious. “Why are you even HERE, Potter?” he demanded to know. “Enjoy bothering people when they want to be left alone?”

And there it was. Harry stared at him in amazement, anger leaving as fast as it had come. “You want to be left alone?” he asked. He had thought… what had he thought? Really? That now that he was being ignored by Slytherins he’d leap at a chance to be friendly with him? Since when did he want to be friendly with Malfoy anyway?

“Yes, VERY good,” Draco replied, his voice coming out in a bit of a hiss. “Go AWAY, Potter,” he turned away from him, very deliberately.

Harry stared at his backside for a long moment as he slowly processed that. Then he shrugged himself and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He felt a bit hurt as he left, which surprised him. He had to honestly consider this. Why on earth did he care if Draco wanted him around or not? He had never wanted him around back when they were in school… why would this matter now? 

He had no idea, but he suspected it had something to do with the fact that his friends were ignoring him and he really didn’t have anyone else to talk to. He managed a bit of a wry smile at that. He had never expected to reach the day where Malfoy was the only other company he could think of, or even wanted to try to be around.

At least Malfoy wasn’t going to ask him to tell any stories about the war, Harry thought. Partly because he had been there. And the old animosity was almost comforting, what with everything so changed.

Harry decided then, laughing at himself in utter disbelief. He was going to try to spend more time with Malfoy wasn’t he?

.

No, he definitely didn’t want to leave Draco alone, he realized over the next couple days, as he found himself glancing towards the Slytherin table more and more often, or trying to catch sight of him in the halls. Draco, if he noticed the extra attention Harry was giving him, didn’t show any indication of it. 

It was about three days later, when Hermione and Ron had disappeared again, Ginny was still missing from his life, that Harry decided that he really didn’t want to study all cooped up in the Gryffindor tower. So he took out the old Maurader’s Map and looked for Draco’s foot prints. They were outside, heading towards the lake. Harry pocketed the map again and set out.

He did find Draco sitting beside the lake, peering over the water with a far away look on his face.  He carefully approached as if sneaking up on a dangerous animal, and, when Draco didn’t react, he sat down next to him.

The only sign that Draco gave of noticing him was the way his back stiffened for a moment before he hunched in on himself a bit.

Draco watched the water. Harry watched Draco.

It was nice, he decided yet again, to see Draco like this. Especially since for so long all he had seen from Draco was animosity, antagonism and fear. Just to see him calm and quiet, no longer terrorizing like he had been before their sixth year, or terrorized like the last couple times he had seen him before the end of the war. He hadn’t wanted that, even on his worst enemy. Which Malfoy kind of was, come to think of it…

The calm didn’t last long. Harry watched as irritation, anger, and finally resignation came over Draco’s face until he turned and gave Harry a look like he was something undesirable stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “What do _you_ want?” he demanded to know.

Harry shrugged. “Nothing,” he replied.

Draco sighed, shut his eyes, and appeared to count to ten before opening his eyes again. “Well you must have some sort of reason for stalking me, Potter, though I can’t for the life of me imagine why.”

Harry shrugged again.

Draco let out a little growl and jerked his arm towards Harry suddenly, pushing up the sleeve. “Look. It’s gone, see?” And, indeed, the arm was bare. “I’m not a Death Eater anymore, I’m not going to curse any of your stupid little friends, or poison anyone, kill any mudbloods or anything like that, so if the Ministry put you up to this…”

Harry raised his eyebrows. Both of them. “You think the Ministry is having me keep an eye on you?” he asked, a bit incredulously.

Draco stared at him, then jerked down his sleeve. “What else could it be,” he muttered grumpily.

Harry studied him then looked out over the water as well. “You’re one of the only people who isn’t bothering me right now,” he said quietly. “I can’t go anywhere without someone paying attention to me or asking me stupid questions about the stupid war like I really want to talk about it over and over again. I don’t want to think about my friends dying, thanks…” he was rambling, he realized. To Draco of all people. He shut up quickly.

Draco, for his part, was giving him a look of dawning understanding. That quickly was covered by a scowl and a disgusted look. “Well, if attention will get you to leave me be, Potter, I’ll be more than happy to oblige,” he growled, reaching in his robes for his wand.

Harry caught his wrist before he could pull it out. Draco gave him a surprised, almost fearful look, then jerked his hand away quickly, lip curling again. 

“Don’t,” Harry said. “I don’t want to fight right now,” he said firmly. “I promise I won’t say anything, and I’ll leave in a minute.” 

Draco just stared at him like he had grown two heads. When Harry didn’t say anything else Draco hunched in on himself again, scowling as he looked back out over the water.

When Harry was sure Draco wasn’t going to make any sudden movements for his wand, he relaxed himself, rolling his head back and sighing. After a few minutes of sitting there in silence, Harry saw Draco slowly relax himself, his eyes falling half lidded as he drew his knees up and rested his chin on top of them. That made a small smile cross Harry’s face. The time passed amicably until Harry finally decided he had bothered Draco long enough and got back to his feet with a stretch and a yawn.

“Good night, Draco,” Harry offered peacefully.

That got him a muttered. “Finally.” Even so Harry couldn’t help but to smile a little bit more as he walked away. That had been minorly successful… well, they hadn’t argued or cursed each other at very least.

Harry was glad. 

…


	3. Confessions

…

3\. Confessions

…

On the third week back, notices began to go up about Quidditch tryouts. Harry had nearly forgotten in the year he had been gone and stared at the notice with awe. He wondered how that had managed to slip his mind. It was Quidditch, he loved Quidditch! And… would he even have time for it with both his studies and teaching? He frowned.

To make matters worse, as he stood there with his mouth open, Draco chose to walk by. For a fleeting moment Harry thought he was going to keep on going to whatever class he had now, but then he stopped, turned, walked back to where Harry stood and looked up at the poster as well.

“Ah,” he said with a bit of distain in his voice. “Repaired the pitch did they?”

Harry glanced at him. “Yeah, must have,” he said. “You’ll be playing right?” he asked a bit hopefully. If Draco could fit in Quidditch, perhaps he could too.

Draco gave him a look like he was mad. “I haven’t played Quidditch in two years,” Draco said slowly, like he was a stupid child would should understand this.

Harry flushed. “Oh,” he muttered, and now Draco gave him a particular look.

“Aren’t you going to play, Potter?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. “Not sure,” he said. “Bit busy this year… and I’m out of practice. Didn’t get to play last year,” he said with a bit of a wistful smile.

Draco gave him a sidelong glance from under his hair. “You should play, Potter,” he said. “It’s one of the only things you seem to be good at. Well that and not dying. Pity.” With that he turned heel and walked off.  

Harry glared after him, anger bubbling up inside, but before he could retort with anything Draco had disappeared back into the mill of students. 

.

Later that night found Harry sneaking out of the Gryffindor tower, heading towards the Quidditch pitch. He wanted to go flying, just for a bit, see if it still had the same sort of spark to it that it had for him before.

He saw it from far away, before he was anywhere near the pitch. A boy, riding on a broom, circling high above the grounds. Harry recognized him even from a distance, and mostly because of the very recognizable white-blond hair on his head.

Draco! Harry grinned. If Draco was practicing there was a chance he’d be trying out for Quidditch after all!

Harry even thought, for half a second, that maybe he could convince Draco to let him practice with him. Then as he watched, Draco flew out of the pitch, zipping over the grounds and Harry realized that he may have just been flying about for the fun of it. Especially since Draco just finished pulling off a rapid set of complicated dives and turns.

It happened so fast that Harry hadn’t even time to see it coming, let alone get his wand out to prevent it. One moment Draco was circling, swooping and diving, looking like he was enjoying himself, and the next a flash of red hit Draco. It was a curse or hex from a wand, and it had come from the grounds below him. Both Draco and his broom dropped from the sky like a pair of stones, disappearing out of sight.

Harry let out a yell and broke into a run.

As he crested the hill and looked down on the Quidditch grounds he could see several shadowy figures hovering over what could only be Draco. It looked like they were kicking him, and beside them something was on fire… it looked like it was his broom…

An icy chill went through Harry. “Draco!” he shouted. He drew his wand and let out a couple hexes, while he ran towards the crowd as fast as he could.

Before he could reach them, however, Draco’s attackers took off, all at once, towards the greenhouses, leaving Draco in a crumpled heap on the ground. A couple turned back just enough to shoot counter spells towards him and Harry had to duck to avoid them, and let out a couple more of his own as he straightened and continued to run forwards. He neared Draco and for a split second Harry stopped. He wanted to keep going but he had no idea how seriously Draco had been hurt…

Harry raised his wand up, then higher, ready to shoot at the greenhouses to drive them back towards either him or the school, damage to school property be damned...

“No!” Draco’s voice stilled his hand. “Stop!” 

The last of the shadowy figures disappeared behind the greenhouses, escaping. Harry stared after them, aghast, then slowly lowered his wand. He turned back. Draco was lying on his side, gasping for breath, his mouth screwed up in pain as he held his leg to his chest. Harry went to him, but Draco waved him away and sat up.

“Who was it?” Harry breathed angrily as he stood over Draco. “Who were they?”

Draco looked up at him, his eyes wide in the moonlight. For a fleeting moment he looked incredibly young and frightened. Then the look disappeared as he scowled. He dropped his eyes as Harry crouched down beside him. “It’s none of your business, Potter,” he replied, his voice clipped and condescending.

“None of my…” Harry shook, indignant and angry beyond belief. “They just tried to _kill you_ , Malfoy.”

Draco snorted and focused his attention on his leg. He began peeling his pants back from the cuff, using his wand to slice the fabric, so that he could get a look at it. “Your… _concern_ is unwarranted,” he said as he did so.

Harry's mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you,” he reached out and grabbed him by his upper arms. “They cursed you off a broom and then they--”

Draco let out one brief sharp cry of pain, dropped his wand. He flinched back from Harry, his teeth clenched, then reacted. “Get AWAY from me,” he spat, pushing him away violently, and Harry let him go and fell back, landing on his rear on the grass.

He sat there, staring in disbelief, and Draco continued to glare back at him, breathing heavily as he recovered, his face twisted with anger. He finally looked away from Harry and returning his attention to his leg. Harry watched as Draco picked up his wand with a slightly shaking hand then, gripping it tightly, brought his other hand up to hold the leg into place. He drew his wand down over it as he whispered spells under his breath, so quietly that Harry couldn’t make them out. 

“Tell me who they were,” Harry asked again, this time less forcefully. 

Draco didn’t even look up at him, but he had dropped the leg and gone onto an arm, shrugging off his robes and peeling back his shirt to inspect it. “No,” he replied, as he ran his wand up and down that arm. His BARE arm, Harry noted yet again. “Let it go, Potter,” Draco added, a warning note in his voice.

Harry let out a little huff of frustration as he watched Draco work. Then he got to his feet again suddenly to take a couple steps back towards Malfoy and crouch down in front of him. Draco looked up at him, startled, then miraculously held still as he took Malfoy’s wrist in his hand.

And then the whole world seemed to slow down. Harry frowned, concentrating as he ran his hand up the side of Draco’s arm where the Dark Mark would have been months before. The skin was a pale white in the moonlight and completely unblemished. He traced his way up the arm, pausing in the hollow of his arm… everything felt fine, whatever damage had been done the spell Draco had used obviously worked to fix it…

“Satisfied?” Harry look up suddenly to see Draco was sneering at him. At the same time Harry realized exactly how close to Draco he was and how he was holding his arm. He jerked away from him quickly, dropping his arm as he fell back, staring at Draco as he flushed despite himself. 

Draco looked back at him, the expression on his face guarded as he pulled down his shirt sleeve over the non-existent mark then reached out to gather up his robe.

“Right,” Harry climbed back to his feet, wiping suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “I…” he spotted something that could help him change the subject. “Your broom,” he said with dismay, looking at the charred remains.

Draco got to his feet as well. He studied him silently for a bit longer, enough that Harry started to shuffle about awkwardly, then shrugged and let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “It's just a BROOM, Potter. I’ll get another one.” As if deciding that it wasn’t worth it to be around Harry any longer, Draco started off, away from Harry and towards the school. Harry could see he was limping, though he was trying his best not to show it. He also realized, feeling nausea grip him suddenly, that the leg must have been broken or at least near to it from the fall. If he was still limping after putting a couple healing spells on his leg…

Anger surged in him again and Harry jogged to catch up with Malfoy, snagging his shirt sleeve and turning around to face him. “Your leg... they really hurt you,” he said furiously, making a hand motion down to Draco's leg.

Malfoy jerked away from him, and Harry grabbed him again. They wrestled for a moment until Draco won his freedom and let out a hollow laugh as he stumbled back from Harry. “Really Potter?” Draco drawled in an amused tone of voice, and Harry looked at him, surprised. “Hurt? You think they actually hurt me?” Draco’s eyes flashed. “This, Potter? A couple scratches?” He let out another mocking chuckle. “This is nothing. You have NO IDEA what I’ve been through. I think I can handle THIS,” with that he turned towards the school and started off again with determination.

Harry shut his mouth from where it had been hanging open and swallowed. “I do actually,” he called out before Draco could get very far.

Draco froze.

“I know what you’ve been through,” Harry added, studying the rigid backside. “And I’m…”

That was enough. Draco rounded on him, his eyes flashing in rage and his voice low and dangerous. “How? How could you POSSIBLY know? You’ve been crucio-ed what, once, TWICE? Tell me, Potter, did he torture you before he tried to kill you? Made you watch as he tortured others? Made YOU torture them?” His mouth twisted as he stared at Harry with his cold grey eyes. “No? Because let me tell you, Potter. That loopy Lovegood girl sure does have a set of lungs on her. You should hear her scream.”

Harry reacted before he could stop or even think about it really, lunging at Malfoy and sacking him. They both went down, struggling for the upper hand, until Malfoy let out a bitten off cry of pain and stopped. Harry stopped as well from where he was on top of him, his shirt clenched in his fists. They glared at each other, and Harry had to work to keep down his anger and not hit him. He breathed in deeply and let it go again. He had to do it again before he could trust himself to speak. “If you’re trying to provoke me into attacking you like they did,” and Harry jerked his head back towards the greenhouses. “It’s not going to work,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m not going to make you pay for something you were forced to do against your will.” He had to take another breath to stop himself from doing just that. He got back up, and jerked Malfoy back to his feet as well. 

Draco shrugged him off, backing up a couple steps, breathing hard with his eyes narrowed into slits as he brushed invisible grass from his shirt. “What if I wanted to do it?” he asked in a low taunting voice and again Harry had to visibly fight to stop himself from slamming his fist into his face.

Harry grit his teeth and refused to take out his wand either, even though his hand went to his side. Someone had just tried to kill Draco, and he meant it, he wasn't going to be the next. Maybe.  “Alright _Malfoy_ ,” he said in a low dangerous voice. “Did you?”

Draco’s ugly look grew and Harry watched as he shut his eyes and opened them again. Harry steeled himself, preparing for something along the lines of ‘of COURSE I did, Potter,' but it didn't come. Instead Draco looked at him with eyes full of absolutely loathing and something else Harry couldn’t quite place and replied in a strangled voice.

“No.”

Harry relaxed, tension leaving him as quickly as it came. He felt relieved. “Then why did you--”.

Draco exploded suddenly, taking Harry completely by surprise. “You FOOL,” he snarled, stalking - or rather limping - back towards Harry, getting right up into his face. “You actually think I would have wanted that, Potter? That I find torturing people a FUN and EXCITING activity? That I wanted to see people DIE?” he was seething, eyes flashing. “DO YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE COME BACK HERE IF I DID?” his chest was heaving and suddenly Harry was afraid that he was going to pass out. He stepped forwards and caught Draco by the arms, expecting Draco to jerk away from him again. Instead Draco seemed to slump in his grasp, his eyes glazing over a bit as he got his breathing under control.

“Granger…” Draco began in a quiet voice once he regained his breath somewhat.

“Hermoine?” Harry asked gently, puzzled. “What about her?”

Draco shook his head and straightened a bit. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Harry was confused, until it occurred to him, in a flash of insight, that Hermione was one of the people Draco had seen tortured during the war. Harry had to swallow back the bad taste in his throat and changed the subject back to the present. “Who attacked you?” Harry asked again, very quietly.

Draco looked at him, his eyes clearing completely and the expression on his face turning slightly desperate. “I can't...”

“Malfoy,” Harry began, and Draco's eyes darted up to his face before looking away again.

“Slytherins,” he said finally as if it was the hardest thing he had ever had to say.

Harry dropped his hold on Draco, shocked. “... what?” he exclaimed, not sure if he heard him correctly.

Draco made a dismissive hand motion and half turned away. He stood for a long moment, collecting himself. “They lost their parents,” he said finally, his voice full of loathing. “And they heard your stupid story about my mother.”

“But there's...” Harry stammered, not knowing what to say and completely confused. “I'm the one who killed...”

Draco shook his head. “Doesn't matter.” he replied and now he sounded slightly tired. “My family is disgraced, Potter, you of all people should know that.”

“I-” Harry stepped forwards, a determined look on his face. “I'm going to...”

“Do nothing, Potter,” Draco interrupted him, giving him a sharp look. “You do ANYTHING to those _children_ ,” he ground out the last word. “And someone a lot more powerful will go after my family. I will NOT let that happen again,” he made a sharp cutting motion with his hand. “You. Will. Do. NOTHING.” he repeated.

He paused and inspected the livid, rebellious expression on Harry's face. “Stop it Potter, the hero act is tiresome,” Draco said with a bit of a lip curl. “They threatened me today, if you must know, I should have known not to go out tonight. Or rather, I should have been more prepared,” he raised his chin and gave a haughty look in the direction of where his attackers had fled.

“This is ridiculous,” Harry declared. “You can’t honestly expect me to—“

“Control yourself? That would be a change for you, wouldn’t it?” Draco looked back at him and the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk as he took in the expression on Harry’s face. “What's wrong, Potter?” he asked. “Did I shatter your quaint little black and white world? Did you really think the war was over when you defeated the Dark Lord?”

Harry’s teeth clenched so hard they hurt. “The war IS over, Malfoy,” he hissed back. “I fought to PREVENT things like this from happening.”

Draco let out a little snort. “What you want and what actually happens are often two different things, Potter,” Draco returned quietly. “The war might be over for you, but it's not for the rest of us,” he turned away again.

Harry reached out and snagged his shirt again, not wanting to let him go. “Draco...” he began.

Draco stopped, his hair hanging loosely over the side of his face so that Harry couldn't see his eyes. He stood there, perfectly still and Harry frowned and reached out. He brushed the bangs back from his eyes and Draco flinched, just a bit. Harry felt embarrassed and quickly pulled his hand away. He expected to be glared at but now Draco was just looking at him, an almost curious expression on his face. “I… we, can protect you,” Harry said finally, feeling himself flush a deeper red. At the same time unbidden memories of Dumbledore’s final conversation with Draco came back to him… he was repeating the Headmaster’s words.   

Draco shook his head and let out a little bark of laughter. “You couldn’t protect me last year,” he said finally as if he had read Harry’s thoughts. “And that was when my life was in actual danger.” Something must have showed on Harry’s face… remorse? regret? whatever it was, the expression on Draco’s face softened when he saw it. “Let me go, Potter,” he said without any heat. “If I need your help I’ll ask for it.”

“You wouldn’t ask,” Harry pointed out, but he dropped Draco’s shirt anyway. 

Draco shot him an arrogant smirk. “No.” he said. “I wouldn’t.” He turned and began limping back towards the school again.

Harry watched him go, feeling suddenly very very tired and drained.

.

Harry considered going to McGonagall about the attack on Draco, deliberated about it the entire next day while glaring at the Slytherin table, trying to figure out which of them had done it. By the end of the day he had decided, reluctantly, to do as Draco had requested and let it go. For now. But if he ever found out who tried to hurt Draco he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sit idly by…

It was also something that came very hard to him, but Harry had to admit there wasn’t much he could do, if what Draco said was true about his family. Harry was fairly sure Draco would never forgive him if something happened to his parents.

He didn’t have to like it though.

He did go to talk to Luna, however, about what Draco had said.

He found her in a secluded part of the library, which was perfect. She was reading a textbook, upside down of course, but when Harry sat down opposite of her she lowered it and gave him an ethereal smile. “Hullo Harry,” she greeted him.

Harry nodded at her. “Hi,” he said. He shifted a bit uncomfortably in the chair. “Luna can I ask you a question?”

She nodded. “Of course you can,” she replied.

Harry cleared his throat. “Draco…” he lowered his voice and leaned forwards so that she would be the only one to hear him. She leaned forwards as well. “When you were in his cellar with Dean at Malfoy’s house, did he ever do anything to hurt you?”

She processed the question then smiled again. “Of course not,” she said. “Not him. Poor boy, all alone. So very frightened. He brought us food once.” She paused. “It wasn’t very good.” She added, almost as an afterthought.

Harry stared at her with his mouth open. But of course, he realized, shutting his mouth abruptly. He felt angry suddenly that Draco would lie to try to provoke Harry into attacking him. God, he had nearly…

Luna reached forwards and patted him on the knee. “I’m glad he has you as a friend now Harry. That is very nice of you.”

Harry flushed. “Thank you,” was all he managed to get out before he fled the library. They weren’t friends, and weren’t going to be unless…

Harry considered that. He had to find something to keep Draco from driving him away. He just didn’t know what that was going to be yet. 

…


End file.
